Chapter 7: Talks and Whispers

[While one story unfolds, the rest of the world continues moving.]

~Miel~

~21st day of Rhuvu, Year 1403~

In another part of Saruja, where the walls were little more than shields from the wind, minerals, and storms resulting from the Mistea River’s presence, there was less bustle of business than usual of this area, and less unrest than other parts of the city – in part due to the dedicated guards who watched the small areas around this district, and the equally-dedicated Guild of Saruja warriors, casters, and strategists who made their home on this side of the city.

Not to speak of those wandering warriors who passed through this part, as few in number as they were. One such warrior was a swordswoman from Miral, who desired nothing more than the peace of knowing her sister was safe – a peace she may be granted with an alliance with, or maybe even allegiance to, this powerful city-state. As the last of the Baael faded from the wall, she cleaned her blade of the disgusting ichor that remained of the wasp/spider-type Baael evaporating in front of her. She spit aggressively at the sight of the unholy creature – even in Miral, they were not this persistent, she remarked internally.

“Thank you for your help, miss!”

A group of Guild members approached her, seemingly not weary of her uniform as others in Alhose had been – she was only aware that they were Guild members because of the proudly-displayed Guild crests hanging from their necks, an iron symbol with two golden swords crossed in the center, underneath which was a small crystal.

“Bauer here saw your skill in taking out those wretched Baael, and we’d like to direct you to the guild for your due payment!” A large warrior in front motioned to and patted the back of a boy with reverent robes and a stave, pulling him to the front with a nervous face.

The woman looked at them, apparently scowling. It was not intentional on her part, but her face had been naturally scowling as long as she could remember. It still took her a few moments to soften her gaze, which she did when she noticed the group flinch.

“Thanks,” she said with a gravelly voice, sheathing her sword. “If you could direct me, I will go myself.”

The group conversed quickly and quietly, unsure whether they should direct her or lead her. The one in front – the tall, broad man in common steel armor with a large axe on his back – took the initiative to say, “The city is pretty big, ma’am, so it’s probably wiser for us to go together. Besides, we need to go report what we encountered at the guild office anyway.”

This time, her scowl was real and obvious, if not short. She really didn’t want to involve herself with strangers, or if she had to, involve herself as little as possible, but she knew it would be better to get a guide than try to find a random building herself.

“Fine,” she growled. “Lead the way.”

She walked towards the group as they quickly turned to lead. The mage in their party – this boy was named “Bauer” – tried to strike up conversation with her as they walked.

“May I ask your name, miss?” he asked kindly. It was sickeningly sweet compared to the treatment she had gotten in Mial County, not to mention her home nation.

“My name is Miel,” she said shortly. “Almost like the county south of here.”

Bauer made a confused face. “Do… you mean north?” He asked it not meaning to offend, but Miel glared at him as he said it, only noticing his genuine honesty after a few moments. She lowered her guard once more and softened her face a little.

“Maybe,” she growled. “I’m not great with directions.”

Bauer continued to ask questions, though Miel only answered with short responses, then eventually stopped responding altogether. The group awkwardly retreated to silence not even ten minutes into their fifty-ish minute trek.

Miel quietly observed the architecture of this city as they moved – Miral housing was commonly ornate and meshed well with its natural surroundings, but the buildings here were alike and rather plain. Most of the buildings seemed to be made of heavier material, and were shades of grey, brown, and pink. Obviously, there was some variety, like the shapes or the roof styles, but overall, these buildings seemed more for protection than appearance.

There was a clear need for this, Miel understood. If the Baael got into the city proper during a recharge period, it made sense to stall or deter them with sturdy walls and doors. By contrast, buildings in Miral commonly had steps or ladders to deter threats, but the architecture was more for looks than purpose – the richer a person was, the more decorated their home was.

Finally, they arrived at the guild office – a small nut-brown building in the middle of the east district with no other buildings within about a hundred meters of it. Unlike the Guild Hall posted in the central district, it was only visited by groups in small doses – the office was primarily for turning in district-local quests and, as was the case here, turning in tallies for hunts or wall defense quests.

“Good morning!” the armored member boisterously called out as they entered. “The Gilded Blades would like to get a tally!”

Inside, there was a small room with two bulletin boards plastered with requests and guild member tags, and a small desk with an attendant behind it, and a staircase behind him. The attendant had short white hair, and was working on paperwork, tilting his head up to address the sudden interruption. “Welcome back, Ethan,” he said to the armored member with a still coolness. “I see you’ve also brought an outsider?” He slowly raised an eyebrow at the unfamiliar face with the guild party.

Bauer squeezed to the front of the group. “Yes,” he said, “this is Miel, a visitor from out of the city. She’d also like a tally, please.” Each member of the guild party presented their guild crest to the attendant, who stacked them on his left one after the other. He faced Miel with a patient gaze. “Do you have a mercenary crest?” he asked. After a moment of looking her over, he corrected: “Or possibly a military crest?”

Miel reached into the corner of her coat and retrieved her own crest – a banded steel insignia with a crescent moon overhead a full moon, the symbol of the Miral Primary Force, Miral’s frontal military force for scouting and assault. The attendant’s eyes widened a bit at the implication that she was either a scout or a forward force for a semi-neutral party to Saruja, though he said nothing, and took the crest carefully.

“It will be around thirty minutes to read and calculate your totals,” the attendant said. “There is a café nearby that has some wonderful specials, but other than that, most businesses will be recoiling from the Baael attack.”

Without hesitation, Miel pulled out a small slip of paper, which listed an address in Ingle. It had been given to her by a seer just before she left Miral. “I need to go here. Is it within a thirty-minute walk?”

The attendant looked at the address, then consulted a map behind the desk. “It’s on the other side of the city, so no,” he confirmed. He showed her the map and pointed to two spots. “This is where we are, where my right hand is pointing, and my left hand is where you want to go. It’s about a hundred kilometers away, so you’d definitely get there faster by cab or airship.”

He rolled up the map and handed it to Miel. “I would recommend sticking to this area until the tally is complete, in any case.”

Miel took the rolled map after a brief pause, during which the attendant assured it was free of charge. Without another word, she turned to leave.

“Miss Miel!” Bauer called. Miel felt a twinge of frustration as she stopped reluctantly and turned to meet his eager face. “If you need any information or help while you’re in the city, The Gilded Blades would be glad to assist you,” he said with a smile. The group of four all gave her a warm, collective smile, to her disgust – she was slowly understanding that the sickening friendliness these people were presenting her was probably prevalent throughout this city, and it would be hard to avoid.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said simply. She exited the building in a silent haste, eager to distance herself from these “kind” souls. In the Kura’s eyes, there was always ulterior motive to kindness provided by and to strangers, and though she could not ascertain the reason, Miel couldn’t bear to trust these Guild members.

Miel found solace in the quiet streets outside, leaning against the wall of the nearest building that wasn’t the Guild office: because it was early, and probably also due to the recent attack, there was hardly anyone around. Most vendors were careful to set up shop after Baael attacks in case of a resurgence, but there were a few brave souls that were determined to open at their regular time.

One particular tent, as Miel noticed, was already set up and open, staffed by a lithe yellow-haired leopard-type Retura (called a Li’shou) wearing a thin set of wrap-like attire around her chest and legs – Miel believed it was called a “bedlah”. Her stall was selling accessories, likely with some magical qualities – from where Miel was standing, she could easily make out rings, ear ornaments, and necklaces, some with jewels, some plain.

The Retura glanced in her direction with thin green eyes, her pinna set straight up in attention. Miel was aware of certain Retura’s inability to hide certain emotions or reactions due to their ears or tails, and this one was obviously watching her, though not with ill intent.

“What?” Miel called her, a little annoyed. She turned her head to meet the Retura’s leer, which became a cheeky smirk.

“No need to bite my head off,” she said with a giggle. She had the slightest accent, but her speech and cadence were both calm, gentle, and understandable, despite her tending to roll some consonants. “It’s just rare to see a foreign soldier in the middle of the city who’s not trying to harass vendors or hunt down slaves.”

Miel didn’t shift her position but continued the conversation on a whim. “As a former captain of the Miral Primary Force, I wouldn’t behave that way, nor would any true Miral service members.” She glanced at the entirely-too-friendly Retura. “Is that common here?”

The Retura nodded. “Unfortunately. Ovurians and Nestians think the world is theirs, so they try to take or control everything they can, even on diplomatic convoys. That’s primarily why…”

She put a hand to her mouth. “Oops, can’t say too much to a possible spy, can I?” She smiled coyly. “Though, you seem a little abrasive for a spy. Can I ask why you’re hear, Miral Girl?”

Miel scowled. “My name is Miel, and I’m here looking for my sister Mira.”

“Apologies, Miss Miel,” the feline said with a smart smile. “As I said, I’m used to more unsavory outsiders, who demand respect they don’t deserve.” She wandered out of her tent and table to reach out a handshake to Miel. “My name is Xiza, an enchantments merchant and occasional safeguard of the weary or scared.”

“Safeguard?” asked Miel, not realizing she was already reaching out to shake.

“Yes. Some citizens here are hunted or otherwise in danger, fleeing from other cities and towns out of fear. Saruja has a few people like me that offer asylum temporarily, or that can direct those in need to safer places, such as churches or low-rent apartments.”

Miel pushed off the wall quickly and raised her voice: “Have you seen a girl with white hair and a scar over her left eye?”

Xiza was admittedly (and understandably) caught off-guard by Miel’s sudden outburst, but tried to calm her down. “I can’t expose any of my clients’ information without their consent,” she said hurriedly. Miel noticeably lost some measure of hopefulness in her face as Xiza said this, resigning to lean back on the wall.

Xiza smiled kindly in response, and added, “I guess it’s a good thing I don’t have a client matching that description, though the white hair does sound familiar.”

Miel faced her body to Xiza, eyes focused. “It does?”

Xiza nodded. “You didn’t hear it from me, but there’s a safeguard just north of Nozaritt’s lake. Apparently, there are many people who escaped the slaver caravans and went to join the Lake Army.”

She started walking back towards her tent as she continued: “The Nozaritt Lake Army is pretty closed-off, so having an in with the Sarujan military or another friendly force may be lucrative.” She pointed to Miel’s military crest; or rather, the crest holster on the lower left pocket of her coat. “Miral’s main forces may put them on guard, so a Guild crest would probably be better.”

Miel touched her crest holster gently – a temporary alliance was her initial plan to find her sister, but this prospective information seemed to add many steps – and a lot of time – to her final objective. She thought back to the moment she took a position in the Miral armed forces, as a promising method to get her and her sister out of the poverty-stricken Tempras – a city in Miral struck hard by the taxing that the Ovurian Isles had enforced to pin down Miral as a resource fountain. Almost six years ago, it now seemed like a far-off memory since she arrived in Alhose – she had left the Miral front lines after discovering Tempras was destroyed in a show of power by Nesetta, though she had heard many people evacuated days before the attack.

She looked to Xiza, who had taken back to her position as a merchant – it was only now that Miel realized how much she had talked to this Retura unintentionally, disclosing her mission in any small part. “How did you do that?” she asked with the most minute irritation.

Xiza smiled again, this time more playfully than kindly. “Do what?” she asked, knowing full well what she had done. “People tend to open up to me when I talk with them, nothing new.”

Her charisma was unnaturally potent, Miel understood immediately. She tightened her mouth, unwilling to let any further information slip, though at this point, it seemed like their conversation was over.

Miel zipped her coat up to the top, tugged at its collar, and put her chin behind it – the coat she was wearing was incredibly out-of-season for this desert oasis, but she still felt somewhat cold here. Maybe this was a side-effect of the Baael’s presence, since even the coastal parts of Alhose were sweltering in comparison to this.

A few more minutes passed before the door to the Guild office opened, with the attendant from before exiting. He looked around for a moment before spotting Miel and waved her over. “The tally on your crest has been completed, ma’am,” he said.

Miel reentered the building warily – she noticed that the Gilded Blades were not present, and let her guard down a little. “How much?” she asked nonchalantly.

The attendant sat himself at the desk carefully, a rolled parchment on his left, which he unrolled. “Your tally for your as-of-yet unaccounted kills has been added to your total: a whopping 55 Baael, plus the 18 you killed here… for a total of 73 marks. Minus the Guild fee… Did you want a new crystal while I’m at it? Your current one seems a little… chipped.”

He glanced up at Miel, who nodded. “That’s fine,” she urged. “Go on.”

He nodded in response. “Very well, then with the Guild fee and replacement crystal, we’re looking at…” He messed with an abacus on his desk for a moment and finished: “9,438 koin, rounded up.” He wrote the totals on the parchment, and shifted the page towards Miel, handing her the pen. “Please confirm these numbers and sign if they are accurate.”

Miel skimmed the page quickly – she knew that the standard Guild fee was higher than most militaries’, but she didn’t really care about the exact amounts. She signed her name with a haste only found in soldiers – neat enough to be formal and read, though no intricate loops or lines. It was a name, and in Miel’s mind, not one that needed to be remembered.

Miel Rinaster Andyphony. Every time she wrote it, she remembered her sister, who shared the same middle and last names. Names Miel had given to her, to tie them together as family… or at least, what they could think of as family.

Miel realized she had lingered too long on the paper, as the final stroke of her name now had a small black spot from the extra ink.

“Are you all right?” The attendant looked at her, though his face was carefully straight and hard to read. There was probably a bit of worry in it, though he hid it well.

“I’m fine,” Miel said sharply. “Will this be enough to get me across the city?”

The attendant nodded. “More than enough. I think you could probably travel by airship to and from Nozaritt thrice over with this amount.”

He unlocked a drawer on his right, which held a plethora of small tally crystals for crests – most were grey or white, but there were some that were blue, purple, green, and many of other colors that Miel couldn’t correctly guess due to the light refraction. He started to grab a green one, but hesitated, then switched to an orange one.

“Give me a moment to grab your payment.”

Sure enough, only about a minute passed before he came back with her crest in one arm (with the new crystal inset) and a small basket with sets of coins tied together. He first placed her crest on the desk, which she took immediately. He then unloaded the basket and counted out a band of nine bills (equaling the 9,000), four gold coins, three silver, and eight iron, all marked with the profile of a withered man with a long face – the previous king, if Miel had to guess. She confirmed the amount: 9,438, as promised. She set her crest in its holster and added the new amount to her pouch.

“May I ask what your next course of action is, ma’am?” Miel met the attendant’s hard stare as he asked this. “Though the barrier is back up, I would recommend staying with a group of warriors, even for a little while…” He glanced at the map he had provided her with, which was tied to her coat at the base.

Miel paused for a moment. She had planned her quest through Alhose very carefully, but now that there was an obstacle, she had to tread more carefully, and slower. If what Xiza said was true, the Lake Army wouldn’t just let her in to see her sister… and that was if she was still there. She had to build rapport with them, and to do that, she’d need to first build it with a friendly nation’s military.

She pulled out the address she had been given: 1010/09 Taldore Street, in the West District of Saruja. There, she had been told, would be a group that could help her in many ways – to find her sister, and to get the help Miral needed. That seer had a degree of knowledge that Miel couldn’t find fault with – similarly to Xiza’s charismatic way of getting her to listen, but unlike Xiza, the seer was uncomfortably sure with her information.

“I have some ideas.”

***

~Knite-Siege~

~21st day of Rhuvu, Year 1403~

The halls of the Main Tower were bustling with stressed guards and attendants. Though the tower had received word from each of Saruja’s wall stations that the Baael had retreated, there was still the panic remaining from the sudden and unexpected failure of the barrier. Higher-ranked soldiers were directing the guards of the tower to specific areas – some were being sent to relieve the front lines, while others were being sent around the internals of the city to make sure no powerful Baael got in unnoticed.

The knight commander was leading these directions – he looked at the available soldiers and guards across their documentation (though most of these names and positions were already committed to memory), and focused more personnel where the need was greatest, such as parts of the wall that had been significantly breached. There were three areas in particular that had been assaulted within the walls, all along the north wall, and he knew there was a good amount of populated housing in that section.

At about four in the afternoon, the panic had finally died down – there were a total of 28 civilian casualties known, as well as at least 40 military ones, though the Guild was still calculating their losses. Knite-Siege took a short break after the last attendant left his desk, leaning back in his chair with a quiet sigh. The glass of water he had next to him, as well as the pitcher that one of his attendants had brought, remained untouched – he could now feel the exhaustion and dryness of so much talking affecting him. He downed the full glass, then poured another half-glass of water, and downed it quickly.

“You should take more breaks, Knite-Siege,” Warbelle’s voice calmly called towards him. He looked to the door to see her peeking in, waving a rolled parchment in her hand. “You’ll get deeper bags underneath your eyes if you don’t.”

“Did you find the source of the tamper?” Knite-Siege asked, ignoring her casual conversation.

‘Unfortunately,” she sighed, “there wasn’t much of a calling card on the barrier glyph. All that was there was a deep scratch, which I repaired. I’ll have to recharge the barrier on the 29th now to keep it running.”

“No internal casualties,” Knite-Siege pondered, “no threat or demand, and no sight of an intruder. Who in Grudia’s name could pass by three levels of security and damage a powerful glyph with no one seeing?” His face was scrunched into a scowl, thinking of any possible leads or clues.

“My guess is a cultist of you-know-who,” Warbelle said as she approached the desk. She placed the rolled parchment in front of Knite-Siege. “Based on the report that the ‘Crush Squad’ compiled, there were a few strange things among the assault.”

Knite-Siege glared at the parchment, deciding if it was worth his time to read the report. “I heard from Tenmus that the SSM mercenary dealt with a Prime?”

Warbelle smiled. “You really don’t like him, do you? Why is that?”

“Mercenaries in general are a nuisance to our city.” He grabbed the parchment and started to read it. “They don’t get along with the Guild offices and cause a disruption, and go making problems in bars or harassing vendors and citizens for pocket money or for fun. They’re as annoying as Ovurian peace convoys, maybe more so.”

Warbelle leaned against the wall as he read the report, waiting patiently for him to finish. After about ten minutes, he rerolled the paper and put it to the side. “Does anything in this report stand out to you?” he asked with a hint of venom.

“Hmm,” Warbelle quietly pondered, debating whether to give him any more information. Knite-Siege was painfully aware of Warbelle’s laid-back nature, but he could tell there was something more – whether it was important or not, he needed to hear anything that she had concerns about.

“Regarding the Baael-like creature,” she started, “I think there may be some concern as to where it came from and how it knows about a new citizen. The fact that it came from the direction of the city is a little concerning, which makes me think that there is a citizen within the walls that can make or control these creatures, or that there may be a production site somewhere nearby for markedly intelligent monsters.”

Knite-Siege clasped his hands together. “Either way, it’s concerning.” He stared straight ahead for a few moments before resting his forehead on his hands. “One thing after another this month. First that peace convoy, then those children playing soldier, and now this.”

He took a moment to stand and faced Warbelle. “I’m going to update the King. Are you coming with me?”

Warbelle considered the invitation for a moment but shook her head. “Between repairing and charging the glyph and teleporting so much, I think I’m going to rest for a bit.”

Knite-Siege took another look at her face – because the lighting in his office was so poor, he couldn’t tell immediately, but there was some obvious drain in her facial features, and she looked paler than usual. Not to mention, he now saw an unexplained scar on her left shoulder – it was clearly a wound that was quickly healed. Warbelle was strong and intelligent, so Knite-Siege knew she’d explain it when it became relevant.

“Don’t overexert yourself, Warbelle.” Knite-Siege adjusted his gauntlet while addressing her passively. “If there turns out to be a threat more powerful than a Prime Baael, we’ll need the genius caster of Saruja’s Warbelle Écartés.”

Warbelle smiled, her face showing a sign of tiredness and exhaustion that Knite-Siege hadn’t seen since she had joined Saruja’s military. “Flattery is rare from you, Knite-Siege. I appreciate the concern.” She turned around with a quick wave and exited without another word. Knite-Siege watched her until she left his view, and then a few moments more before finally gathering his reports and leaving to meet with the King.

***

The King’s appointment room (a separate room from the audience chamber where the task force was approved) was a medium-sized room that was fairly unremarkable. The walls were lightly decorated with the flag of Alhose, the flag of Saruja, and a framed picture of the previous King – a grim reminder for both King Pennrose and Knite-Siege that even Kings must eventually be a memory. At his rather plain oaken desk, with a stack of papers on one side of him and a Call Stone on the other, sat the King, pen in hand and crown missing from his head. His face, as Knite-Siege was used to, was calm and pensive, though the stress of the barrier failure could be seen with some measure of perception.

“Milord,” Knite-Siege addressed in an attentive position. The door was wide open, but he did not enter the room until the King responded. “I have brought the reports from the wall stations for you to review.”

King Pennrose looked up from his papers, still writing. “You may enter,” he said solemnly.

Knite-Siege entered without dropping his stance. “There are clearance reports from each of the seventeen wall positions as well as…” He trailed off before clearing his throat and finishing the statement. “…as well as one from the Crush Squad.”

The King’s hand slowed ever so slightly. “Something happened?”

Knite-Siege nodded solemnly. “It may be best to read the report yourself, sir.” He walked forward to the King’s desk and laid the report on it. It was now that Knite-Siege saw his crown, gently lying in his lap.

“It happened to the mercenary and the Poison Corps girl.”

Finally, the King stopped writing. He folded the document he was attending and put it to the side, dragging the new papers in front of him. Knite-Siege noticed a flicker of Essence as the King activated the ink – King Pennrose was not as skilled with Essence as Warbelle (or even Knite-Siege), and often overused Essence activating these kinds of internal documents. The King looked over the report with a haste that matched Knite-Siege’s.

“The Baael that led the swarm seemed to be a different Fellstag than the one that escaped last month,” he mentioned after reading the document. “That one was larger, and had two horns, correct?”

Knite-Siege nodded. “None of the other walls’ reports mentioned a Prime Baael, so it’s either a spawn or an entirely new Baael. It unnerves me that each time there’s an attack we are introduced to a new Prime.” He crossed his arms and added, “There must be a cause for this, but Warbelle didn’t mention any theories.”

“Did Warbelle have any insight on the unknown creature?” he asked. He folded the paper (rather than rerolling it) and put it back in front of Knite-Siege.

“She said that it’s possible that someone in the city made or controlled it, and that there may be a production site within or nearby Saruja.” Knite-Siege retrieved the document, then returned to his at-attention position. “She didn’t say anything regarding the term used, or why the mercenary understood it.”

The King sighed, resting the side of his head onto a fist. “Knite-Siege, what is his name?”

Knite-Siege took a moment to answer. “Vincent Laverse, sir.”

“Then why are you calling him ‘mercenary’?”

Knite-Siege made an annoyed glare towards his left. “Because that’s what he is, sir,” he said, again with a bite. “I think that the task force is unnecessary to forward Saruja’s power, and the fact that they hired a murderer-assassin as their leader shows that the group creators just want the money.”

He relaxed his face, and looked at King Pennrose, who was staring back at him with disappointed eyes. “Do you have that little trust in Dr. Sivverya?” the King asked. “He and the first Dr. Simon Listrean were valuable allies to the last king, and Dr. Sivverya’s work on the study of Essence and Baael are of utmost importance to the furthering of anti-Baael technology.”

Knite-Siege noticeably fought back anger. “That’s different, Sir. Dr. Listrean was a respected scientist who worked to his last breath designing the barrier with King Lonvele, Dr. Sivverya, Ms. Visaras, and Warbelle. The current Dr. Listrean has no accreditations to show he can build this kind of squad with any use, and Vincent Laverse’s motives remain unclear.” He refocused on the King, and said, “I stand by my decision at the meeting, that the task force isn’t viable.  The fact that you gave Listrean an out through the point system doesn’t change my feelings.”

The King stared hard at him for a few moments before responding. “Knite-Siege, what do you think makes a great leader?”

As Knite-Siege pondered the question, he continued: “Saruja is a large and powerful city, but it wasn’t always that way. The people who led it in the past grew it from a dream, from the hope that there would be a safe place to run away to. Each leader before me fought long and hard to achieve the Saruja we live in today.”

He straightened his posture, still eyeing Knite-Siege. “A leader is someone people can put their hopes in to make dreams a reality. A great leader, by that definition, is a person who does it with their citizens and allies close behind.” He stood up. “Your father was a great leader, and he foresaw the problems with the current Saruja before he became King, and fought until his last breath to shape one that didn’t have them.”

Knite-Siege had visible confusion on his face, and the King sighed. “Both Regnah and Simon Listrean have hopes for an even better Saruja that they cannot complete alone. Vincent is someone without a direction to go, but who has the power to shape their hopes. In their eyes, and likely in the eyes of those he’s helped over the years leading up to now, he is a leader, great or not.”

The King put his hands on his desk as he leaned forward. “With a direction, a goal, and a team that supports him, he could be a great leader that rivals you or I.”

Knite-Siege sneered at this idea. “You can’t be serious? He’s an outcast who was given the position on a whim, and based on Barolo’s report, can barely hold his own in a fight!”

King Pennrose smiled gently. “How long did it take for you to score a point against Liane?” he taunted. “Give them a chance to show what they can do, and then you can judge them.”

He sat down once more, cracking his knuckles. “Give me the remaining reports, and I’ll read them later. I am going to sign an emergency notice to all active parties – the Guild, the College, the military, and the Crush Squad – to investigate all possibilities related to the tamper.”

Knite-Siege scowled and handed him the paperwork from the other wall positions. “Thank you, sir,” he said reluctantly. As he turned to leave, the King mused a final thought aloud.

“‘A place where the lost can belong’… it’s almost poetic. It fits so well with our anthem.”